From the preface, "The Side of a Cliff, Two Hundred Feet above the Ground"
1965, the Shawangunk Mountains, New York State.
He was hanging there, in the air.
Air was everywhere. Above, below, ahead. To the left and right. Seemingly against logic, wherever he looked–hundreds of feet of sheer, open air. The wind whipped at his face, hawks swooped below his feet, and he felt serene and at peace.
At sixty, also seemingly against logic, he was very much in his prime. After all, how many men–of any age–could crank a one-arm pull-up or full split like he still could? Or climb such a fearsome, overhanging, exposed rock wall, such as the rock buttress from which he now dangled?
Steep and jutting sharply from the cliff, the buttress looked unscalable, unattainable; or, as the guidebook put it, like a journey "into the unknown." Perched on a hillside, to a climber dangling off its side, the buttress felt even higher than its footage, and colder, windier and wilder than anywhere else on the cliffs.
And seemingly against logic, it offered complete exposure–air on four sides...
From the chapter, "High Exposure." (It is 1941, and Hans is making the first ascent of a climb still considered one of the best "on the planet," as Climbing Magazine recently put it.)
...There he gazed on the scene before him. The rock buttress was so steep and so wide, that from his stance, it looked to Kraus as though he and the buttress were floating in air.
Air–when Kraus looked below, air–when he looked to his left, air–straight ahead, air–above. The north facing buttress, “the wall of high exposure,” as Kraus called it, seemed so much colder, windier, and wilder than anyplace else in the Shawangunks. His climbing partner might have been less than fifty feet away, but Kraus felt completely alone, completely cut off. And completely at peace.
It was on exposed rock, on soaring spaces, feeling closer to air than earth, that Kraus found an order and harmony lacking in a dislocated world, a spiritual framework absent in his daily existence...
From the chapter, "The Arrangement." (It is October 1961, and Hans has just become President Kennedy's secret White House back doctor.)
...The arranagement started smoothly, but soon Kraus saw a problem emerge. Kennedy was on the phone constantly throughout the day, and he saw no reason to stop taking calls during his back treatments. Kraus laid down the law: "No calls, none, no matter who they're from. I don't care."
After some argument, Kraus relented, slightly, and was willing to compromise. "Okay, the only exception I'll allow is in case of national emergency," he said.
Enlisting the support of Evelyn Lincoln [Kennedy's long time personal secretary], Kraus warned her, "If you want the President to get well, you have to curtail all of those telephone calls and leave him incommunicado during the hour of his treatments."
A week passed; Evelyn Lincoln held all of Kennedy's calls as she promised. Then one day, Evelyn Lincoln buzzed Kraus during a treatment session.
"I'm very sorry, Dr. Kraus. There's a phone call for the President, and this one he needs to take." She added, apologetically. "It's his mother."
Kraus replied gently, thinking of his own adored "mutter," Ella Kraus. "Of course, I understand. Mothers are important."
Afterwards, Kraus softened his no-calls stance during treatment. Exceptions for national emergency or Rose Kennedy.